I love you
by n-dere
Summary: He didn't expect her to say it, not then, and not now, so close to the end. He didn't expect to find himself saying it back. One-shot


Keefe wasn't expecting the best customer service. No, he wasn't.

But being chained to a chair and locked in a dark room hundreds of feet underground in an ogre prison was also not something he was expecting.

He could feel Aeolus shifting behind him. They were back to back, tied to chairs because Fintan finally decided to be a nice guy and acknowledged the fact that some people have parents trapped in an ogre prison that didn't try to stick them in fireplaces when they were babies (not that that ever happened to Fintan _wink wink_ ).

Keefe wasn't expecting that.

"This is nice," Aeolus's heavily accented voice spoke. "I always wanted to know how it felt like to be this close to you."

"Shut up," Keefe chided. His leg bounced involuntarily. It so hard to stop moving; at times he'd try to be perfectly still and suddenly his fingers would start twitching and that was usually when the trouble started. Then Dame Alina would start smelling like she took a bath in muskog dung. Then he would run. Far, far away, because Dame Alina had a good arm for throwing stilettos.

"You think we'll survive?"

Keefe sighed. "No, I don't. Fintan would totally want to get rid of his precious Godspeed."

"Aww!" Aeolus's smugness washed over Keefe. "I'm _sooo_ precious, aren't I?"

Keefe seriously wasn't expecting this.

The two boys sat in a comfortable silence for a while, Keefe glaring at the floor and Aeolus thinking as many different things his fast forwarded mind could think about.

Then the door opened.

A tall man walked in, his entire body in black. In his hand was a glinting silver knife. His face was covered in shadow, but a grin was apparent on his face.

"Hello."

Keefe could feel Aeolus stiffen behind him. "Oh, rats."

The man let out a chuckle from deep in his throat. The man came closer, reaching out to Keefe. He grabbed one of the chains holding his wrists to the chair. With one fluid cut through with the knife, the chains broke.

Keefe looked up at the man in confusion. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer.

"Come on, dude," Aeolus answered instead. "You don't wanna find out. He's most likely to cut out your throat and present your disembodied head to your lover."

Keefe imagined his friends seeing his head without a body. _Let the Second Annual Vacker Hurl Fest begin!_

He almost laughed. Keefe still considered them his friends.

The man placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him up once all the chains were cut.

"Hey!" Aeolus called. "You forgot about _meee_!"

The man ignored him. He pulled Keefe out the door and into the hallway, his grip like iron. They walked through an endless amount of hallways and went down 3 flights of stairs.

Keefe had a feeling he knew where they were headed.

* * *

They stopped in front of a door.

Nothing special—a thick iron door, enough to hold back a stampede of elephants.

"A bit much, isn't it?" Keefe commented.

The man smiled. "I trust you know your way back."

Keefe waved him away. "Yeah, no problem."

Photographic memory comes in handy here.

The man nodded before walking away.

Keefe looked up and down the hallway nervously. This seemed to be the only door on this floor, and there were no guards.

 _It's where we keep the special ones,_ Fintan had told him. _The ones I don't feel like killing just yet._

Keefe knew why he would keep her here. As long as she was alive…Keefe would do anything, even kill.

He placed a hand against the door. The knob was in the center. It was probably open.

Irrational decisions. Life is filled with those, and opening a door is one of them.

She was sitting in a corner, her eyes on him. There was faint light from a balefire crystal that she was holding in her hands. Her blond hair was dirty and fell over her face and shoulders in strings.

Keefe felt his hands clench. His shoulders shook, though he had no idea why. His face felt hot…wet…

He was crying.

Lady Gisela gapped. She stared at her son in shock. She stood, barefoot and frail-looking, and walked over to Keefe.

Tears were falling down his face in streams now. He sniffed. He refused to look at her anymore.

She reached out slowly, until her hands cupped his face and she could see the blue eyes she fell in love with when she first laid eyes on him.

She pulled him into her arms, squeezing him tightly. Keefe didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her as well.

Gisela buried her face in his neck. She laughed. "Keefe."

He said nothing. His mother…weak…

His knees gave out then, and the pair collapsed on the cold floor of the prison, still in embrace.

"I'm sorry," Lady Gisela managed to whisper after a few seconds of silence.

Keefe squeezed her tighter. "No…"

"I…I…" she froze.

She pulled away from her son, her hand grasping tightly onto his right arm. Her blue eyes were wide, terrified.

Keefe said nothing as she moved her hand, staring at the thing on his arm.

Neverseen.

Gisela shook her head, covering her face with her hands. Her entire body shook. "How could you…why…NO!"

He backed away as she reached out again.

"Keefe," she growled. "You're with them."

Keefe looked down.

"Of course," she scoffed. "You had to follow after your mother, didn't you?"

"I'm sorry. But…isn't this what you wanted?"

Her eyes widened again. "No—I—"

"You left us…you left me," Keefe scowled. "You were with them from the start, made me forget it. Well, guess what, I remember now." He swallowed down the bile in his throat. "You threatened to hurt my friends and—"

"I know," she interrupted, her voice stern. "Do not remind me of my mistakes."

Gisela and Keefe sat in silence for a while.

Keefe stood, turning away. "I should—"

"Wait."

He turned back to his mother, confusion taking over at the sight.

Gisela was kneeing before him, holding out a folded piece of paper to him.

"Take it."

He pucked the paper from her hands.

Keefe unfolded it slowly, afraid he already knew what was on the inside.

The picture was faded and the parts where it had been folded were close to ripping. But he could see it.

It was her, his mother. It was the drawing he had made of her in Level 2, the one she had taken, the lone survivor of his father's attack.

Keefe remembered so clearly: her taking it, tucking it into her pocket before his father could see. He didn't think she would have kept it.

She was smiling in the drawing.

Once, when he was 6, and he had lost his first tooth, Keefe had gone to show her. He grinned, showing her the hole in his smile and holding out the tooth in his hand.

She had smiled.

It was genuine, he had known.

"I...I didn't think you kept it," he managed to whisper.

His mother smiled. It was nothing like the one in the picture, but she was trying. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I think we've already been over that answer."

"Keefe," she reached for his hand, forcing him to look at her when she dug her fingernails into his skin. "Listen to me, please."

He pokerfaced.

"I wish I didn't ruin your life. I regret _everything_. You can feel it, can't you?"

Keefe bit his lip.

"You were always so talented. And your father..." she shook her head, "I should've encouraged you. I was stupid, I didn't _try._

But you were always so...happy. Your smile..." she closed her eyes in bliss as she remembered. "I loved seeing you smile. But you rarely smiled at home." Her face fell. "I thought...it was my fault. And, now, I guess it was."

Keefe felt like objecting. _No, part of that was dad's fault._

"You have a long life ahead of you, Keefe." She smiled again. "Don't ruin it. Like...like I did. The ones you love matter, don't abandon them."

Keefe pulled his hand away slowly. "It's to late for that, mother. Because I already did."

"I hope that is not what you think later on." Gisela's blue eyes were serious.

Keefe sent her one last glare before turning around. "Goodbye mother."

A sharp pain stuck his chest. He knew it was her sorrow.

"Keefe."

He paused.

"One last thing."

He turned his head slightly.

"I...I love you."

Keefe froze. He didn't think she would...

"I love you too."

He had barely whispered it, but he had a feeling she had heard it.

Keefe reopened the door and stepped into to the hallway.

It was empty.

He slipped his drawing into his pocket. Souvenir, he told himelf.

"I love you."

Keefe wasn't expecting that. No, he wasn't.

* * *

 **Uploaded at: 11:30 pm**

 **No, I did not read over it.**

 **Sorry.**


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